Even Stars Die
by DanyTheConqueror
Summary: He was supposed to shine brightly, like the stars he was made after. Yet his story ended in the dark, trying to atone for his sins. [A Regulus Black story.]


Author's Note: I have intended to write a story for Regulus for quite some time, but I had never gotten around to it. When I sat down to write this I was not sure entirely how I wanted it to progress, but once I started things seemed to fall into place. I hope you enjoy it.

Unfortunately, I don't own Harry Potter.

**Even Stars Die**

_1979_

Like his father and brother before him, Regulus Arcturus Black had been named for a star. Two stars, in fact. His first name was the name of the brightest start in the constellation Leo. Why his parents decided to go with a star that came from a constellation that represented the same animal as Gryffindor he never knew, but apparently they had felt like it was a good idea despite the lion connection. His middle name was also after a star, one of the brightest in the northern hemisphere.

He did not think that the fact that the two stars he was named after were exceptionally bright was a coincidence. His brother Sirius had been named after the brightest one of all, a benefit that was given to him because of his place as the eldest son. He was supposed to be the one who did things to gain further respect for the Black family name and to shine brighter than the rest. He had done the latter, drawing attention to himself everywhere he went, but not the former. On the contrary, Sirius had turned his back on everything the Black family stood for and never looked back.

When Sirius had rejected their parents' teachings, Regulus had felt like he needed to step up to make his parents happy. He hated seeing them angry as much as any child, if not more, because when they got angry his father drank and his mother yelled. It was easier to keep his head down and do as they wished, not talking back and unquestioning, to keep the precarious peace that was the signature of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Yet, somehow, his parents kept asking for more from him and, after a certain point, he wasn't sure that he could say no. Especially after Sirius left shortly before Regulus turned fifteen, he knew that a heavy burden had been placed on his shoulders. With Sirius disinherited and three female cousins, the future of the Black family name rested solely on his shoulders. It was a lot for somebody his age to take on, but nobody seemed to care that he was being crushed under the pressure.

With Sirius out of the house, there was nobody to turn to. There was nobody to talk to about what his parents did or what they wanted him to do. Even when he was at Hogwarts, he was surrounded by people who had the same beliefs as his parents and the same desires for the future of the magical world. If others disagreed or had questions, they didn't say it out loud.

He had gone along with it all, not asking questions for a time, just like the others. He had been leaned on by his eldest cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, and had done things for the Dark Lord's cause. Somehow, before he was entirely sure how he got there, he was watching his older cousin laugh as she used the Cruciatus curse on a Muggle family that had bought a manor once owned by a pureblood one. When she was done having her fun, he had been ordered to kill them all.

When he had done his duty, he was rewarded with the Dark Mark on his left forearm. Both of his parents were so proud, even though neither of them made any efforts to contribute to the cause themselves, except perhaps in the form of monetary donations. They had celebrated with him that night, popping a bottle of champagne his father had bought for such an occasion. Yet neither of his parents knew that long after they had fallen asleep that night he was reliving what he had done that day. He knew he should be happy, but all he felt was hollow.

It was only a week after his seventeenth birthday. In the eyes of society he was now an adult, qualified to do magic outside of school and without supervision, but he didn't feel like one. He still felt like a child, doing as his parents instructed to avoid rocking the boat.

It was funny, how his desire to avoid rocking the boat ultimately led to him taking a short voyage on a very small boat with his house elf, Kreacher, sitting at his feet.

He had tried to be a good Death Eater, doing what he was told when he was told. He had been at school for nearly all of the time since he had been given the Mark, but he was always given things to do on holidays and people to spy on during the year. It made an already exhausting year of NEWT preparation even harder, since he knew that one wrong step could leave him dead or chained up in Azkaban for the rest of his life.

Perhaps the worst part about it was that he had been groomed his entire life to hate Muggles and Muggleborns and to fight for pureblood supremacy, yet he hated every minute he spent doing Death Eater business. Bellatrix's face would glow with glee, Narcissa's husband would bribe anybody without regret, and his best friends from school could not wait to get their own Marks. Yet, every time he had to kill somebody, Regulus would feel the bile rising up in his throat. He had been trained for this life, but it did not bring him the pleasure he had expected it would.

To be honest, he made himself sick.

When the Dark Lord had asked to borrow a house elf from one of his followers' families, Regulus had offered Kreacher. Before the elf left, Regulus made him promise to come home. But when the elf came home that night, shaking and hiding in his cupboard, Regulus felt awful. Ever since he had been a little boy, Kreacher had been the only one he could count on not to be cruel to him. Kreacher would always do as he was asked and, in turn, Regulus treated him better than anybody else did.

It took a few days, but he managed to get the story of what had happened on the night Kreacher was with the Dark Lord out of the elf. He listened as the elf talked about the evil coming from within the locket and the terrible drink he had been forced to swallow cup after cup of. By the time Kreacher told him about being dragged into a lake filled with bodies of Inferi and only leaving because Regulus had commanded him to come home, Regulus was struggling to fight back tears. This elf had been his dearest friend growing up, but he was fighting for somebody who had left Kreacher to die in the lake.

In the week that followed, he had locked himself in the library, coming out only for meals and to use the loo. If his parents were concerned about his actions, they didn't say anything. In fact, Regulus was not entirely sure that his parents had even noticed that he was acting out of the ordinary. Their indifference worked to his advantage though, because nobody asked him about why he was looking into the oldest books filled with the darkest magic that they had in the house.

Somehow, after his research, he knew that what Voldemort had done with the locket in the basin. With a bit of prompting questions for Kreacher, he could say with some confidence that the Dark Lord had left a piece of his soul inside the jewelled locket in the cave. A piece of his soul that would need to be destroyed if he would be able to die. A piece of his soul that, other than Regulus and Kreacher, only Voldemort knew about.

He had known then what he had to do. When his parents had left the house to go do something together for once, he had walked to Kreacher's cupboard and found the elf sleeping in a makeshift bed. "Kreacher," he whispered, unnecessarily quietly. "I need you do to something for me."

The elf had pushed himself up. "What do you need Master Regulus?" he asked, already alert.

"I need you to take me somewhere."

Kreacher hadn't understood at first and, when he did, Regulus could see the fear in the elf's eyes. Yet, loyal as ever, he did not refuse what he was asked to do.

Thankfully, Kreacher had been able to apparate them to where the Dark Lord had taken him without any problems. Regulus had no idea where the cave was, but he supposed it didn't matter given the circumstances of what he was about to do.

By the time they had traveled to the rock in the centre of the cave, Regulus already could tell why the elf had come home shaking after he had been there the first time. The dreariness, the blood sacrifice, and the dead things in the water were disturbing. He knew that after he drank the potion it was only going to get worse, so he did his best not to think about what he was about to do.

From the pocket in his trousers, Regulus pulled out a locket of his own. Inside, he had placed a tiny slip of parchment with a short note on it. He hoped that Voldemort would never find out about his replacement locket, but he had wanted to make sure that there would be a note inside for him to find in case he did.

Regulus knelt, so he was nearly at eye level with Kreacher. "When I'm done drinking the potion, you must put this in the empty basin." Even though he was nervous, he managed to keep his voice firm. "You must go home immediately after, do you understand?"

"Master Regulus…" Kreacher's voice trailed off. His eyes were wide with shock.

"When you go home, you must never tell my family or other followers of Voldemort what we did. And you must destroy the locket in there. The real one." He pointed to the basin, filled with the liquid that seemed to glow in the dark.

Kreacher didn't respond. Regulus could practically see the elf thinking, trying to come up with an alternative to what was about to happen. But Regulus could not make Kreacher drink the potion again, not when Kreacher hadn't done anything wrong. He, on the other hand, had done plenty wrong. It was time to atone for his sins and let whatever would happen to happen.

"Do you understand me?" Regulus asked. When he got a nod, he said, "Will you follow my directions, Kreacher? Promise me." Another nod. He leaned over to kiss the top of the elf's head. "You're a good friend, Kreacher."

He had to turn away from Kreacher to have any hope of keeping himself composed for what was to come. After he had conjured a cup, he took the three steps needed so he was standing on the edge of the basin, looking down at the green liquid. His chest tightening from nerves, he let out a slow breath. He may not want to do it, but he had to.

In a fluid motion he dipped the cup into the basin, raised it to his lips, and drank it in three quick gulps.

He felt like blood had ceased to course through his veins and that his heart was trying to pump ice through his body instead. His peripheral vision got fuzzy and, in the back of his mind, he felt a nagging feeling that he had done something wrong.

He dipped, lifted, and drank a second time. He looked around, paranoid, convinced that he had heard his mother's shrill voice. Even without being able to make out her words, the tone had made his palms grow sweaty.

He downed a third cup. His hand shook as he reached for a forth and, although he knew he had to drink the contents, Regulus had a hard time bringing his hand to his mouth.

Voices started ringing in his head more clearly. _You stupid boy! You think you can do you please? You are going to ruin the Black name forever!_ Words he had heard his mother say many times to his brother. Words that he had never heard directed at himself, but he knew his mother would gladly yell if she knew what he was doing now.

The cup scraped against the side of the basin, sending a clang through the cave that made Regulus shiver. He had felt like he had been doused in ice before, but he suddenly felt like a fire was building in his chest. This time, he was unable to drink everything in one go. His vision was even worse now, almost as though he was in a fog. Some part of him, very deep down knew that it didn't make sense, but he couldn't remember exactly where he was or why fog didn't make sense.

He drank what remained in the cup.

Fog surrounded him now. He wanted to scream, to ask if there was anybody around, but he wasn't sure if that was a good idea. Regulus didn't know where the cup he had been holding went. Had he dropped it? He wanted to look, but he felt paralyzed. His heart was racing, as though he had just run a marathon. He could only move his body slowly, but his eyes could move as quickly as ever. They darted around the room, trying to find somebody, anybody, who could help him.

Somehow, the cup was back in his hands then, filled nearly to the brim. Against his will, it pressed against his lips, with the cool potion slipping over his lips and onto his tongue. He wanted to spit it out, but he feel it slipping down his burning throat. Yet, although it had been cool on his lips, it offered no relief to his throat.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, long hair smacking against his cheeks. "No." He meant to say it loudly, but it came out more like a croak.

When he didn't get a reply, he opened his eyes. Far ahead, obscured by the fog, he was able to glimpse a figure. "Who's there?" he asked, tongue thick. He felt tired, so tired. Feeling around, his fingers brushed a hard surface. Even though it was uncomfortable against his back, sitting was a relief.

The figure did not reply, but it did step closer. Regulus sat, heart racing, as a woman emerged from the fog. Her brown hair curled away from her face in a way that seemed deliberate, like she had taken the time to style it before finding him here. She had a loose white top that was tighter around her hips and the same sort of flared trousers he often saw the Muggles who lived near his house wearing. With a feeling of dread, Regulus raised his eyes to meet the woman's.

He let out a strangled cry. He knew that face. It was one that he had seen in his dreams – no, his nightmares – every day in recent weeks. His eyes darted around in the fog, trying to see if her husband or children had suddenly appeared in the distance.

"It's just us," the woman said. Regulus realized he hadn't even known her name when he killed her. He hadn't asked, he had just done what his cousin told him to do.

"Why are you here?" Regulus asked, voice wavering.

"You know why," the woman said. Again, a cup appeared under Regulus's lips and he found himself being forced to drink again. "You killed me. After you killed me, you killed my boys. When we were all dead with those flashes of light, you killed my husband."

Regulus wanted to back away, but he couldn't. He felt around in the fog, trying to see what was keeping him trapped. Other than something rough and cool at his back, he couldn't find anything that could be keeping him chained to where he was sitting.

The fog felt like it had made its way into his head, too. "I'm trying to make it right." His voice no longer sounded like his own. Was his hearing going, or was it his voice that was changing? He couldn't tell.

"Sacrificing yourself will not bring me or my family back to life," the woman said sadly. "You will just be another person in the afterlife."

He wanted to ask her what it was like there, but he couldn't get out the words. Even if he could, surely he would burn in one of the deepest hells for things he had done. The family he had killed would not be there, so asking her what tortures he was in for wouldn't help.

He drank again, still not knowing where the cup was coming or going. "No more, no more," he said. He should cast a spell to end the enchantment that was making the cup move, but he couldn't remember any spells. He didn't even know if he still had his wand on him and he didn't have the energy to look for it to see.

A familiar voice that he couldn't place was speaking to him then, but it sounded like it was coming from far away and that it was distorted. Whatever words the voice was telling him were all jumbled, which was weird because the woman's words had been so clear and easy to understand, even with his thoughts moving so slowly. Now he was only able to make out a single word, clear amidst the random syllables: Regulus.

Yes, Regulus, he thought to himself. That was his name.

Almost instinctively, he opened his mouth and swallowed the liquid that sloshed in.

Strangely, his mind seemed slightly clearer than it had before. At least, he had become profoundly aware of the fact that his throat was now unbelievably dry. He felt as though he had not had anything to drink in a week, despite all the potion that had just been poured down his throat.

"Need… water…" he said to himself, patting the pockets of his trousers as he tried to find his wand. If he could just find his wand and remember some spells, he would be able to get water. He _knew_ that he had learned a spell that would make water come out of his wand but, although it was on the tip of his tongue, he couldn't think of what it was.

He was surprised to see that the fog was receding. The other parts of his vision were still blurry, but directly in front of him things were becoming clearer. The woman he had killed had disappeared with the fog that brought her, gone Merlin only knew where. He could now make out a rocky shape in front of him and the fact that he was on an island.

Moving faster than it had been in minutes (or was it hours? He couldn't be sure how long the fog and the woman had been here), he realized that islands meant water. The water he was so desperately craving for his scratchy throat.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a strange looking creature, short and wearing some sort of cloth with big eyes and bigger ears, but he didn't take the time to think about what the creature could be. The only thing he could focus on was the water beyond the creature, at the edge of the rocks.

The creature was speaking (how odd, he thought) but he ignored the words. Too weak to stand, he crawled over to the water, his thirst overpowering all other thoughts. Finally, with sore knees and cut up hands, he was gazing down at his reflection in the water.

Smiling, he cupped his hands and broke the surface of the surprisingly still water. As he felt the cool water flowing over his hands, Regulus had a brief moment of relief. A split second later, his relief vanished as something wrapped around his wrist. He did his best to fight, but his body was still weak and begging for water. As the water was rushing up towards his face, Regulus instinctively tried to take in a gulp of air.

Whatever had wrapped around his wrist was still there, pulling him further down into the lake.

Eyes stinging, Regulus reached down to try to pull the thing off of his wrist. It was only when his fingers made contact that he realized that it was another hand. A very bony, very white hand that was attached to something that was staring up at him. And, beside it, there were more, staring at him with blank eyes.

A single word popped into his head: inferi.

Forgetting that he was underwater, Regulus tried to scream. The only thing that came out was bubbles, before he realized that he should be keeping his mouth shut. His lungs were protesting. He tried to kick up to the surface to get air, but the bony creature was somehow keeping him down.

Regulus turned his head to the surface, where he could make out a slight glow above. As the fog started to come back, creeping in on the edges of his vision, Regulus thought he saw something move above the water, but he could not be certain before the fog overpowered him once more.


End file.
